Music Box
by mysteriousMonarch
Summary: He keeps pictures of all of them hanging in his room to further appreciate his mastery of ironically letting these women and men know, "Hey I noticed you noticing me and I think you're pretty cool too. We should hang out sometime. Chew the fat. Shoot the shit. Whatever cool kids like us do for fun these days." Only, when he hangs out with them it isn't really them per se. It's a pi
_TT: John. Have you noticed Dave behaving different lately?_

 _EB: i don't think so. why what's up?_

He had no idea how he had gotten here- here being, figuratively, the way his life is currently and the way his mind works. Although, in the literal sense, he also had no idea how he had gotten _here,_ to where he was currently standing outside this girl's bedroom window at three in the morning freezing his ass off. The cold didn't really bother him too much. He felt numb to the world, a true sense of disconnect. He didn't know this girl. Not really. She had smiled at him really nice the other day at the convenience store when she sold him a pack of cigarettes and a bag of Doritos.

As he watched her sleep his thoughts wandered, as they often do, to his Bro and his various interactions with the older man throughout his life. For the most part his guardian had been largely uninvolved in his upbringing. He spent most of his days in isolation keeping himself entertained as well as he could and was surrounded by pornography and sexually explicit puppets to keep him company. He had an unhealthy diet that consisted mostly of junk food and apple juice. The only real human contact he had was when Bro would force him to strife, teaching him sword mastery and how to accurately calculate and predict body movement. In the times in between these sporadic meetings of violence he regularly kept contact with a few online friends he had met years ago that all lived several states away.

He checks his phone for the time. Three-thirty on the nose. He figures he's spent enough time getting his peep on through the window and he should get down to business so he can head back home to sleep for a few hours. He's never been too big on sleep. He does it in bursts at random intervals throughout the day. He flash steps to the window and opens it with ease. He had done this enough times that it came naturally to him now. It was like breathing air.

He slips through the window carefully and sets his bag down to pull out a smuppet he had brought from home. He stands beside her bed and places a hand over her mouth before waking her up. Her eyes fly open wide in fear and he clamps down harder as he feels her rapid breaths coming from her nostrils.

"'Sup," he greets her casually. "You're going to open that pretty mouth of yours and not make a sound alright?" he says to her. He figures she will appreciate the flattery. She likes him after all. "Nod if you understand." She nods her head hesitantly and he removes his hand slowly. A moment later he's cramming the smuppet into her mouth to muffle any sounds she will inevitably make. He offers her an emotionless smile then goes to grab his sword he had brought into the room with him. The girl's eyes go wide in fear again as he traces the blunt side of the blade down her arm. Her scream is quieted by the smuppet in her mouth when he slices the arm clean off her body in one skilled movement.

His dark shades shield his eyes from the blood spatter that is created as he works methodically to cut her body to pieces with his blade. When his work is done he pulls a camera out of his bag to snap a few sweet pictures of his work. A smile tugs its way onto his lips as he thinks about how enjoyable it will be to develop that film later. He keeps pictures of all of them hanging in his room to further appreciate his mastery of ironically letting these women and men know, "Hey I noticed you noticing me and I think you're pretty cool too. We should hang out sometime. Chew the fat. Shoot the shit. Whatever cool kids like us do for fun these days." Only, when he hangs out with them it isn't really them per se. It's a picture of their mutilated body hanging from a clothesline in his room. He talks to them sometimes. It makes him feel less alone.

He had spaced out again in fantasy. He comes back to Earth and removes his shades to wipe the blood from the lenses on the hem of his shirt. He takes the smuppet from his new friend's mouth and packs his shit back up. He knows he's going to get caught. He's not exactly going out of his way not to.

 _TT: You haven't noticed anything strange at all? Nothing seems a bit… off?_

 _EB: now that you mention it…_

It was one of those days where he had no reason to leave his top floor apartment. He sat at his computer desk alone in his room surrounded by his silent friends. He leaned down close to the surface of the desk to snort up the line of white powder he had arranged there. He pulled away sniffling and wiping at his nose that had turned an angry red which stood out in stark contrast against his pale gaunt face. Today he had switched out his shades for larger pointier ones. They had belonged to Bro. It was at this time one of his online friends decided to video call him. He answered.

"Hey Dave!" John's cheerful voice rang out through the computer speakers. "I saw you were online so I thought I'd pop in to see what's up. Whoa! Are you okay? Your nose is super red."

"Yeah dude I'm fine. In fact I'm so fine people that ask me that have to do a double take and say damn that guy is fine. It blows their minds how fine I am," he answered attempting to put his normal person façade on. He tended to ramble when he spoke though. It was probably worse at times like these when his mind was a million miles away.

John chuckled on the other end of the video call. "Whatever you say. How come you're wearing your old shades?"

"Sometimes John, you've just gotta go back to the basics. I like to throw a little old school remix in every once in awhile. I was actually just thinking of digging some of Bro's old beats out to see if there's anything I could work with in there," he sniffled and took a swig of the apple juice he had sitting nearby.

"That sounds like fun. You'll have to send me the sample when you finish it. You haven't sent me anything in a while," the buck toothed young man said.

"Can't rush perfection, Johnathan," Dave responded staring off at a chip in the paint on his wall. His shades were so dark they were able to hide he fact that he wasn't even looking at his computer screen. "Did I tell you I got in the paper?" He had a slight self- satisfied smirk on his face.

"What? No way- really? For your comic?" John asked in amazement.

"Something like that," Dave answered vaguely. In his opinion he was certainly in the newspaper for entertainment purposes. It wasn't for his web comic though. He had taken a page from his Bro's book and was entertaining his community with his puppetry. "Houston Hacker Strikes Again" the paper said. He thought the nickname they had given him could use some work, but hey, alliteration wins again. He was pulling the strings and making them all dance in fear. All he had to do was set the pieces up- make a new friend and hang out for the first time- and then the puppets would all begin to act. They wrote about him and talked about his every move. He loved every second of it.

"… that's why I want to see it, plus it got pretty good reviews opening day." John had been talking about some new movie he wanted to go see but Dave couldn't bring his racing mind to focus on the words.

"Sorry man, I've got to be hitting the old dusty trail. Bro wants me for something," he lied and stood from his computer chair. John saw how underweight the other teen appeared to be but remained silent about it.

"That's fine. I'm actually supposed to be doing laundry right now anyways but I've been putting it off. It's been great talking to ya!" John waved.

"Later," Dave told him and saluted back before disconnected from the video call. He wandered out into the hallway outside his room and pulled the cord on the ceiling to unfold the stairs that led to the attic. He climbed the stairs with purpose and when he reached the cluttered attic he went straight for the large trunk in the corner that seemed to speak to him every time he laid eyes on it. Bro had kept various things stored in that trunk. One of the things Dave was most interested in were his old discarded disks of beats and samples he had produced over the years. Music was what drew the two Striders closer despite the elder's lackluster parenting skills.

Dave reached the trunk and flipped the lid to it. If his mind wasn't racing he probably would have gagged but he was floating somewhere far away. He dug through several multicolored smuppets and Bro's dismembered body parts before finding the disks he was looking for. He stuffed everything back into place before retreating back to his room with his find.

 _EB: i had a video call with him the other day and he didn't look so hot. he's too skinny_ _and he might've been sick with how red his nose was._

 _TT: …John._

 _EB: he did mention that he was in the newspaper. i think it was for his comic but i'm not sure._

 _TT: I'll have to check the periodicals in his area online to see if I can find that. You mentioned this was recent?_

 _EB: yeah like two days ago_

He flicks his cigarette butt out onto the expanse of the sweltering rooftop of his apartment building. Once again he's not sure how he got to be where he currently stood wielding his sword. The white horse tends to lead him wherever it pleases. It amuses him to find himself standing in the one place where it seemed like Bro gave even an ounce of a shit about him. He slices the air with his sword experimentally.

 _TT: I will check the archives for the past week in the Houston area then. He may appreciate a printed copy of it from us. I fear that he's been unraveling lately._

 _EB: unraveling? what do you mean?_

 _TT: I'm afraid the stress of his relationship with this notorious "Bro" figure has finally started taking its toll on his psyche._

He moves in fluid motions as he spars with an invisible opponent. His blade catches the harsh glare of the sun at its peak in the sky but his eyes remain shielded by the pointed shades on his face. The black crows that often hang around the apartment building watch him intently with their beady eyes. He's never been too fond of them. He thinks they are too invasive and noisy. His blade cuts through the empty space in front of him as he nearly dances across the rooftop with practiced steps. He knows this waltz well and points the tip of his sword at a nearby crow when he comes to a stop. The black bird immediately takes flight and finds some other rooftop to loaf around on. He's starting to rethink his opinion on these nuisance birds. He studies them all carefully and wipes the sweat from his brow. He will be caught soon he knows it.

TT: Just for verification, Dave has mentioned having knowledge of wielding a sword, correct?

 _EB: yeah he said his bro taught him. did you find something?_

TT: …

He vocalizes a familiar beat as he drops his arms to his sides loosely and walks closer to the edge of the roof. His sword drags beside him and fills the humid air with its metallic scraping to accompany his sick beat. When he can go no further he jumps up onto the ledge and looks down at all of the puppets he has attached to his fingers. A few more of the crows take flight and as he watches he realizes that he should do the same. They would definitely be coming soon and he just couldn't have that.

He closes his mouth and quiets the beat but he still faintly hears it calling to him. He brings his sword up to inspect the blade, still in perfect condition just as he had been taught. He turns his back to the city below him and plunges the blade into his abdomen. A low cry escapes his throat before he can stop it. More crows take flight and as he tilts himself backwards and his feet leave the roof, he joins them. Faintly he realizes that he's never felt more alive than in this moment.

 _TT: It's too late, John. I'm afraid he's already come undone._


End file.
